Blind Man's Bluff
by Sunbird Riding Shotgun
Summary: When Eliot buys Parker and Hardison time to escape from a job gone south the price he pays is higher than anyone anticipated.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **This is actually a collection of prompts I did for comment fic over on live journal that I complied into a single story. Each segment is from a diffrent prompt (S**ophie returns when Eliot is injured**, **"It wasn't your fault"** , **You don't con your own team**, **He's learned to control himself**, **Swallowing His Pride**, and **The teams first job After...**). There will be at least one more chapter to this story.  
Dedicated to JennyTork who read the first segment and thought something much more cool than what I had planned was going on, thus enableing me to write the rest of this story.

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**Blind Man's Bluff**

* * *

When her cell phone's ring wakes Sophie up at four in the morning she lets out a slew of curses as she fumbles for the offending device. She's more than a little temped to throw it across the room and go back to her pleasant sleep. It's probably nothing more than that guy from the club earlier who managed to get her number by means Hardison would be able to tell her but she wouldn't bother calling about.

When she see's it's Nate she is briefly faced with the decision of whether to throw it across the room or answer and give Nate a piece of her mind for calling at this hour.

She decides on the later, answering the phone and preparing for a rant of the ages.

Nate's voice cracks a little when he says "Sophie." And she finds she can't get a word out. Nate takes a shaky breath and continues. "We were on a job… it went south. Hardison and Parker made it out okay but Eliot bought them the time to do it. When we could get him… He's in surgery now." Sophie covered her mouth, not able to stifle the gasp. This wasn't possible. "I… I know you said but… please. Come back now. We need you. Eliot needs you." She was about to answer when she heard a very soft "I need you." Tacked on.

"Did Hardison get me a ticket already?"

"Give me your location and he'll have one waiting for you at the desk."

"I'm on my way."

Nearly twelve hours later Sophie stepped into the ICU room where she'd been told Eliot was.

She paused on the threshold, looking around at the others hesitantly. Parker looked like she'd seen a ghost, but the shock at seeing Sophie didn't hide eyes red from 'not crying'. Hardison looked like he might have been pissed or might have been beyond happy if 90% of his focus wasn't on the unconscious man in the bed.

**oOo**

Nate didn't even look up from where he was sitting by Eliot's side.

She was still trying to find words when a more gravely than even usual voice broke the silence. "You have a very distinctive walk…"

Nate knew it was illogical. He knew, very clearly, and was certain he'd feel very bad for doing so later, that it was wrong to feel this flash of utter loathing for Sophie.

All she had done was step in through the door. Hell, she came walking in because he asked her to. He'd called her in Europe, probably at some god awful hour in the morning, practically begging her to come back, saying the words he couldn't say before because he had nothing left to hide behind.

He needed her. The team needed her. And Eliot… god Eliot…

He didn't look away from Eliot even as she walked in the door. Even as her being here somehow made this real. Even as the fact that she had flown halfway across the world to be here made it really true that this was happening.

And she didn't even know what was so bad, probably just relived to know Eliot was alive.

He hadn't known when he called what the true damage was. It was another three hours before the doctors had come out and dropped that atomic nuke in their laps.

Yes. Eliot was alive and stable and should recover enough from the beatings to return home in only a few days. However the other damage done… They had brought in a specialist and tried to repair what they could but the time between the initial damage and him getting help combined with the head injuries sustained they didn't know yet. The surgery was done and they'd have to wait until the wounds and surgical damage healed before they'd know for sure.

No.

Nate hadn't hated Sophie when she first walked in. It was Eliot's dry remark of "You have a very distinctive walk", the soft gasp followed by Sophie's bag hitting the floor, the way she stumbled dazedly across the room and reached out, fingers just a hair away from touching the bandages wrapped over Eliot's eyes.

That was what made this real.

This was real. His plan had really gone south. Parker and Hardison had really only escaped alive because of Eliot staying behind. Eliot really had been tortured and his captors really had blinded him.

This really was his fault.

Eliot raised a hand, wrapping it around Sophie's wrist as easily as if he'd seen her hand suspended there in the air inches from his face.

He let out a long, slow breath, his face calm. "Sophie…" He stated, his voice gentle. His head turned up like he was looking at her before turning toward each of the other three standing silent vigil, unsure how to handle what came next. "It wasn't your fault."

**oOo**

He's adapting remarkably well.

That's what the doctors kept saying, the surprise in their voice sincere enough for Sophie to actually believe them.

And why wouldn't what they say be the truth? After all it was only five days ago that Eliot had been captured and tortured for hours until the team had come to his rescue. Only four days ago he'd woken up in the ICU and been told the damage to his eyes had been severe and they wouldn't know weather or not he'd ever see again for a month, maybe longer.

Eliot had only been legally blind for four days and he was sitting in his hospital, in his civilian clothes, fingers skimming over the brail text of some book without a title that could be read by the eyes.

After knowing him as long as she had Sophie should have only been mildly surprised to learn he could already read brail easily.

She had to admit he did seem to be adapting remarkably well.

The doctors had given them all tips on things to do and avoid to help him through the transition: announce yourself when you enter the room, let him know before you touch him, don't move something of his without telling him and "showing" him where you put it, and try to be as casual about the situation as you can.

But Eliot had always known who was who and where they were. When, that first night when his wounds were still fresh and he was having the most difficulty moving Sophie had tried to, subtly, cut his food he'd glowered at her and she'd put the silverware down without restoring it to it's proper location. With a frustrated sigh picked up the utensils and put them back, neatly aligned with his plate, where he'd know where they were.

At least they could all act casual, acting casual was what cons did best.

Hell, Eliot was adapting so well and they were all acting so casual that Sophie almost thought they'd all tricked themselves that things would be back to normal in no time. Eliot was too … Eliot to be slowed down by the fact he couldn't see.

He'd bounce back from this like nothing had ever happened. Just a few changes and accommodations and they'd be back in business. Hell, Sophie could hear the goons now. _"But you can't see"_ and then Eliot would beat them up and remark with that little smirk. "_Good thing I don't use a gun then."_

She kept tell herself that, but even as she did she knew it wasn't true.

She knew because Eliot had agreed to stay in the hospitals until the doctors told him he was good to go. In the past Eliot was normally out the door the moment he was capable of standing under his own power, sometimes before.

She knew because there were a few pieces of broken glass left in the corner of the room that hadn't been there before he all but ordered them to go home the night before. Sophie could practically see him, getting frustrated, losing his temper, a glass sailing across the room to shatter on the far wall. The orderlies running in and him pulling it back in, claiming it was an accident, and no they didn't have to clean it up. He would. She could see him meticulously cleaning up the glass (he'd know the safest way to do it to) but still missing pieces. He was good, but even Eliot couldn't know where all the pieces of a shattered glass had fallen from the sound.

And she knew because she was standing in the doorway, feeling guilty for taking advantage of the fact a code blue alert the next room over had masked her approach and entrance, the door sliding shut behind her before the noise died. Eliot had looked up, his face pointed straight at her despite the bandages covering his eyes, before looking back to his book with a long suffering sigh.

He had read on, oblivious to her presence. A minute ticked by, two, three. Sophie knew she should announce herself but she couldn't make herself break the silence.

When the book closed Sophie feared she'd been caught but she watched as he let it drop to the floor, hands falling to his lap as he took in one of his "I'm in agony but way too tough to scream" deep breaths and let it go slowly.

He lifted a shaking hand to touch the cloth covering his eyes before letting it drop, his shoulders slumping and his posture hunching like he was instinctively trying to protect himself from the beating he could no longer see coming.

If it was anyone else Sophie would have thought she saw just a hint of something dampening and darkening the bandages at the corners of Eliot's eyes.

She knew Eliot was conning them. That he wasn't adapting well. That he wasn't okay. That he wasn't going to just bounce back from this. She wanted to be angry, he'd said it so many times _you don't con your own team _and here he was.

She wanted to call him on it. She wanted to tell him to let her help, let them all help.

But there was another code blue alarm and Sophie took the chance to leave, slipping out the door almost silently despite the noises covering her exit. Somewhere further into the ward she heard someone call out "We're losing him again."

Her own private con shattered and she all but collapsed into the closest chairs, five days catching up to her and she wasn't even sure if the sudden hum of the flat line she heard was real.

**oOo**

There were going to be changes. Eliot knew that, even without the doctors constantly telling him so. Some days he really just wanted to punch in a few faces to show that he didn't need their helpful tips on how to cope with being blind.

He knew he had to take it slow, that he had to let himself process the fact the injuries might not heal, that he might not see again and he shouldn't wait a month to start his life again.

In a month the bandages would come off and he'd open his eyes and he might see fine, if a little worse for the wear, or he might have some vision problems, or he could see nothing at all. But that was in a month, or twenty-four days at this point.

But he had processed that. He had gone through the whole denial stint and come out on the other side when Sophie had arrived and it hit him that even though she'd come back for him he still might never see her again.

It had hit him like a blow to the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of him as realizations hit and his mind spun in dangerous directions. He had the sudden Need to be not there anymore, to be not surrounded by his team, staring at him with pitying looks he couldn't see but could feel.

Flight or fight instincts kicked into high gear. But he's learned to control himself. He was in no condition to go anywhere and the team needed him. The team needed him. He'd focus on that and ignore all the rest.

Just focus on the job. It was what always worked.

He dealt with the team's guilt and started trying to move forward, progressing into anger as he spent a few days adapting. He'd trained blindfolded at times, and had done plenty of work in the pitch dark so it could have (for anyone else should have) probably been a lot harder to start habitually remembering exactly where things were by touch and muscle memory instead of sight. That he already could read brail from that whole mess back then was a small blessing. Honestly his frustration could have been worse if he hadn't been so prepared.

Not that he didn't have his moments, that shattered glass was pretty damning evidence even if he clean it all up before anyone but some orderlies saw it. But he'd learned to control himself a long time ago and he reined himself back in before any serious damage was done.

He had known depression was going to hit, he was used to five staging things. Others might insist he was a big macho guy who didn't deal well with emotions but he'd learned early on that when you could, and when it was safe, you had to deal with shit and move on. Better to let himself just cope with this for a few days now than let it fester.

And yeah it hit. And yeah, it was about as painful as he knew it would be. He registered and recognized symptoms as they came. Exhaustion, lethargy, feelings of sadness, loss of interest, loss of appetite, inability to sleep… after doing the PTSD and Five Stages deals as many times in his life as he had he knew he just had to wait it out.

He felt those things, but he'd been through enough, learned enough control, that he never let it show when the team was around. They already blamed themselves enough for what had happened and he was still, as always, trying to protect the team.

As usual Bargaining never really hit. He'd always been too much of a realist. Eliot had learned a long time ago you can't control the violence, he could only control himself.

And then, after seven days in the hospital, Nate offered to drive him home as usual when Eliot had been injured and Eliot was pretty sure he'd made it into acceptance.

For better or worse, for sight or without it, it was time to move on with life. Determination set in and he left his hospital room behind.

It wasn't until he sat down in the car that it hit him that there was a decent chance he'd never be able to drive his truck or ride his motorcycle again. He nearly reacted like he'd been punched in the gutt again, implications beginning to spin one more time and he felt like he'd been knocked all the way back to just out of Denial.

Nate asked him if he was okay and Eliot felt this insane urge to just once answer with a deffinant "No" and maybe some Parker-crazy sounding thing, his mind practically begging to hear Nate say "Let's go steal back Eliot's sight."

But he was protecting his team and he's learned how to control himself. Instead he forces a smile and says. "Just realized this was my first time in a hospital where I didn't hate the wallpaper."

Nate laughs and they drive off, and Eliot wonders how much longer until the team gets out of Denial themselves.

**oOo**

It's a lot like a riding crop.

Of all the thoughts going through Eliot's mind as he sat there that was the one that kept coming back.

It felt a lot like a riding crop.

Long, thin, springy, with a loop on the end with the handle meant to go around the wrist. Well made, of course. Parker had stolen it for him and stolen into his apartment to leave it where he'd find it.

He mentally acknowledged that of all possible ways that was the best. They didn't spend money on it. Parker delivered it and left without him even knowing she was there so there were no awkward moments and it was Parker. She could have done so only a little less easily when he wasn't blind.

It felt a lot like a riding crop, the kind of thing he'd always refused to use on a horse.

He wasn't sure it was reasonable to hate an inanimate object this much, though maybe guns were the exception.

He didn't use riding crops. He didn't use guns.

He wouldn't use this.

He didn't need it. He really didn't. He hadn't had any problems avoiding obstacles so far. His instincts and reflexes meant he would do just fine.

The fact his knees ached still from the fall he took the last time he left the building…

He didn't need it.

Who was he kidding? He hadn't made it fifty yards from his apartment building without falling flat on his face. The sidewalk in this area was dangerously uneven even for those with sight and he knew this area.

What happened if he fell in front of the team?

He didn't need to see to know what their faces would look like. Guilt, worry, concern, Pity.

They'd pity him. They'd get more coddle sum and Eliot wasn't sure he could take that.

Eliot rubbed his face, careful of the bandages at his eyes and sighed. He didn't need this.

He didn't want this.

Frustration boiled through him but he breathed out and sighed.

He didn't want this, but he needed it.

Slowly he wrapped his hand around the grip and stood, trying to remember Old Pam, digging back to decades gone and dredging up memory he could of what to do. There had been directions in the box, written in brail, but he'd figure this out on his own.

He needed that too.

**oOo**

It had been two weeks since they got the news that Eliot might be blind and no one would know for a month if not longer.

It had been nine days since Nate drove Eliot home from the hospital and the team tried to go back to some semblance of normal life (or what had passed as normal life before).

It had been eight days since Eliot accepted the fact he should use a blind man's cane when going out and about, even though he argued he could probably get by without it.

It had been seven days since Eliot called Sophie and offered to go shopping with her if she'd go with him to the grocery store. She'd been with Nate at the time and mentioned it to Nate after she got off the phone. It only took them a few minutes to put together his reasoning for the bizaar offer.

Going shopping with Sophie was a test, he'd have to go out in public, use the cane, deal with a completely unknown area and situation, not lose his cool, and while he wouldn't be able to say screw it and bail he'd have Sophie there as a safety net should things go horribly awry.

But it was Sophie going with him to the grocery store that hurt. He'd already shown them that he could cook blind, what he couldn't do was go shopping for the ingredients.

It had been six days since Eliot called to ask if Nate could pick him up from a local gym later that day. Curious Nate arrived early, parked his car and went in. When he asked the woman at the front desk she said Eliot was in the back studios and Nate could go find him without signing in or paying.

Nate had found Eliot with a couple of guys who had the same air of easy strength that fighters like Eliot had. Eliot had asked Nate if he minded hanging around a few more minutes. He'd promised Sam a rematch.

Nate watched as they squared off, Eliot's opponent had the height (and, well, sight) advantage but Eliot seemed at ease, almost serene really.

The fight was short. The victor was Eliot.

It had been five days since Eliot showed up back in Nate's apartment at the time he used to show up when they weren't on a job, a bag of groceries in one arm, backpack on his back, and relived grin on his face. He had leaned his cane by the door, put the groceries away and went about things like he normally would.

He sat in his chair and turned on the TV, listening to a football game and Parker and Hardison bickering as they showed up together. There was a brief fumble as they tried not to react to the reasons why it had been two weeks since things had been this normal but soon the three were bickering. Sophie showed up and she distracted Nate with some cases to work on.

Time passed and their off duty routine settled in and around two oclock, right on the usual schedule, Eliot had put down his book, stood, and stretched. "It's Thursday." Was all he said before heading toward the door. Nate watched as Parker and Hardison stared at him, unmoving. "I can hear you not moving. It's Thursday an' you had last week off. Get."

Slowly Parker and Hardison stood, following Eliot out the door. Thursdays when they weren't on a job Eliot used to spend a few hours training Parker and Hardison in self defense.

Looked like that wasn't in past tense after all.

"He's ready you know." Sophie said, pulling Nate's attention back to her. "He wants to go back to work. He wants to go back to doing his job. He's doing everything he can to show us he's ready."

"He's blind Sophie." Nate said, still hating to say the words but having to be realistic. "His job was the most dangerous to begin with and now… And it's not just him I'd be putting at risk. We all depend on him for our safety. Even if I hate what happened if Eliot hadn't done what he had Parker and Hardison would be dead now." Nate sighed, looking down at his hands, that fact the only reason he was able to live with the fact when the job had started to go south he'd told Eliot 'get Parker and Hardison out of there'. It didn't matter that Eliot would have done what he did on his own. "A job's different than normal life. We don't know if he can do his job anymore."

"Then we put training wheels on." Sophie said simply, sorting through the files. "He need's to 'get back on the bike'." She referenced what Eliot had once said with a sad smile. "I don't think he'll be able to get through this until he can do his job again or knows he can't for certain."

Nate sighed and nodded, accepting enough that Sophie continued.

"We pick an easy job, one we could do in our sleep and plan it and practice like we're going up against Sterling." She put the file in his hands. "And you plan a time for things to "go south" a bump in the road that Eliot would have to deal with without us, and don't tell him you did. Have Hardison and Parker close enough to come to the rescue but not unless they have to."

Nate looked at the file an old memory stirring.

Sam, no older than seven, trying to ride a bike without training wheels and falling, scraping his hands and knees up badly on the asphalt.

Sam, before the scabs had completely healed, afraid but still asking Nate to teach him how.

The training wheels came off and he rode with Nate holding him upright, running beside him, then letting go.

The triumphant smile as Sam rode laps around the parking lot, small king of a small boy's world.

He blinked away the memory and picked up the file. "Alright." He looked up at Sophie and gave a determine nod. "Lets go steal Eliot's bike back."

It had been four days since he'd told the team they were doing a job.

It had been one day since they'd finished their pre job prep work and Hardison had held the official briefing. A new brail printer helped ensure Eliot had the materials to follow along and Hardison had told Nate he was designing a screen that would mimic the TV only have bits under it that could raise to make brail letters and a upraised cursor to key Eliot in to where he should be "looking". Hardison also had done extra surveillance, getting clips of their marks' voices and even the sound of one of them walking.

Later Hardison would admit that and a lot of other little changes he'd made for Eliot's sake had been Parker's ideas. When Nate asked her how she'd come up with them her answer was simply "some people do crosswords."

It had been five minutes since Nate had finished metaphorically helping Eliot gain speed, setting their planned "hiccup" into motion, three security guards changed their route 'unexpectedly' and heading straight for the stairwell where Hardison and Eliot were making their way to their goal.

The last two weeks swam through his mind as Nate hit the button that would make it seem to Eliot like their coms were being blocked, and let go of the metaphorical handlebars. He sat back, watching on Hardison's hacked security system, forcing himself not to hold his breath.

Eliot reacted to the down coms first, asking Hardison something. Hardison responded flippantly, doing his part like Nate had told him to try his best to distract Eliot.

Eliot had growled back, obviously annoyed by Hardison's response. There was bickering and then, mid sentence, Eliot stopped. His head shot up, swiveling like he was trying to catch the sound of something. Nate checked the other cameras, the guards were getting close. He looked back to Eliot and Hardison in time to see Eliot helping Hardison to get their stuff together and half dragged Hardison up a flight of stairs and into an alcove off the stairwell they didn't have to pick a lock to get in.

Nate smiled, Eliot still found ways to memorize the blueprints of whatever building the broke into it seemed.

But Nate had predicted this and sure enough moments later the guards were closing in on the location where he and Hardison were hiding.

Just as the guards were about to look in to their hiding spot the door exploded open, catching the closest guard and knocking him down. Eliot came out swinging, locating his next opponent and taking him down. He was on the third guy only a beat slower than he'd normally be and had him down just as fast.

He stood very still for a moment, listening, determining it was an all clear before he started to drag the guards somewhere less conspicuous.

The camera was at just the right angle that Nate could see Eliot's face just as he moved to do so. He was wearing a smile, victory on his face, as big as a boy doing his first laps around a parking lot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:** This chapter was written as a series of prompts (When the Bandages Come off, Sensativity to Light, Too Proud to Ask for Help, It's in the Accomidations they Make for him, Without the Trainning Wheels, and Vulnerable)

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**Blind Man's Bluff**

* * *

Thirty days.

Thirty days in darkness.

Thirty days of learning how to not see, how to not drive, how to take someone to the grocery store because he couldn't read the boxes on the shelves, how to bite his tongue and his pride and use a blind man's cane when he went out of the house because he was only so good.

Thirty days of learning to swallow his pride on a whole lot of other matters.

Thirty days of waiting for this one day.

And here they were, back in the hospital, back in the room he'd spent the first few days in, waiting while the doctor (He never did know what the doctor's name was, he couldn't see the name tag) finished the last few tests.

He could feel the others around him as much as he could hear them, knew they were there. The hope and fear in the room were practically tangible things riding around in the air making conversation impossible.

Then the door opened and the doctor came in, exchanging only the basic pleasantries before saying it was time. Quick, efficient, hands touched Eliot's shoulder to let him know they were there before moving to unwrap the bandages from over his eyes.

The material fell away and Eliot had to suppress a wince, it had started to feel almost like his skin.

The last layer was removed and then the padding and then four words they'd been waiting for for thirty days came.

"Eliot. Open your eyes."

He didn't right away, it had been a month and Eliot had a brief moment where he'd all but forgotten *how*. He took in a breath against the panic, against the sudden dread that in seconds any hope he'd see again might be gone completely, against everything he'd been warring against in private drawing strength from the others without letting them know he needed it.

Slowly, feeling like he was waking from a long dream, Eliot forced his eyes open.

A soft cry escaped his lips only a second later and his eyes slid shut, a hand covering them against the sharp agony of the room's over bright lights.

But even as he did so he was smiling, eyes watering and maybe not all from the pain.

Because for those few brief seconds he'd fought the light and tried to focus his eyes the blurred blobs in the room had cleared and sharpened and the first thing he'd seen in thirty days had been his team, whole and together once more, waiting to welcome him back to the land of light.

**oOo**

It was just a little too much, a bit (okay, more than a bit) more than he could handle.

If anyone asked that was why Hardison was out on the roof, sitting with his legs dangling over the side (and when had he become this comfortable with heights? Oh, right, Parker), staring into the sunset.

There had been too much going on. Too many lows and highs and those painful can't breathe moments at either extreme.

Five weeks ago there had been a high as he burst from the building, shouting insults backwards as he narrowly escaped capture in a job gone south. He'd felt invincible, right up until he realized only Parker was with him.

That was when the low hit. When they realized Eliot was back inside. When his com cut off and they knew he'd been caught. When they raced for hours to try to rescue him before it became a matter of retrieving a corpse.

Then another high as they pulled a con in eight hours flat, walking in to find Eliot alive followed by a low as they took in the damage. Blood everywhere, all over his skin and face, his eyes closed and each breath sounding more painful than the last.

They got him out and he was in surgery, a high and low coming in a single blow as the doctors told them Eliot would live only to tell them he might never see again.

Somehow, that was almost as bad as losing him.

The rest blurred out for a bit. Sophie's return, Eliot's absolution of their guilt, the days in the hospital, the days of recovery and adaption, and everything slowly returning to almost normal somehow. Then there was the job, getting Eliot back on the bike of crime and the victory for all of them when he did so.

And then, the ending of thirty days, when the bandages came off and Eliot opened his eyes. That brief moment when his dilated eyes focused, recognition on his face telling them all Eliot had seen them before that tiny cry of pain escaped Eliot's lips and they knew something was wrong.

There had been more tests and more questions and more medical babble before the doctor finally told them what was going on. Eliot could see but his eyes were still damaged, his pupils were no longer able to dilate and contract in response to light properly and the damage as well as the procedure to save his vision at all had caused hypersensitivity.

The doctor had tried to simplify it. "To Eliot a well lit room feels like he's staring into the sun."

It was hard to get his mind around. Eliot could see but at the same time he couldn't. Hardison used to think sight was a pretty binary concept but he knew better now.

That was three days ago and they were still trying to adjust. Eliot with bandages around his eyes, a sight they'd all gotten used to, had become Eliot with big dark sunglasses even inside. Hardison knew there was a joke there somewhere, something about Cyclops or maybe aviators or something but he couldn't bring himself to find the funny.

Even if he could briefly forget the reasons Eliot always wore shades, that the blinds in Nate's apartment were always down and the lights dimmer than they used to be, or that Eliot was as likely to be reading a book written in brail as in ink… Even if Hardison could forget all that he couldn't find the funny.

The cane that was still kept by Nate's door, the sound of it tap-tapping on pavement whenever they went outside during the day chased the funny away.

They'd learned the moment they left the hospital that there was no protection strong enough against a sunny day. Never one to hide from a fight, even one he couldn't win, Eliot had retrieved his cane and closed his eyes, resigning himself back to blindness when he couldn't stand the light.

Hardison was a thief and a night owl and had always thought of night as his time, but it had only been the past few days he started to feel a personal hatred toward daytime.

The last rays of sunlight were peeking out from behind the city's buildings when Hardison heard the roof's door open and the tap-swish-tap of Eliot making his way across the roof.

Hardison didn't turn around, he'd come up here to not think about what was happening, even if it was all he'd managed to do.

The tapping stopped and Eliot eased himself down to sit next to him on the edge. Hardison looked over, seeing Eliot had taken off the shades now that night had fallen and brought the light to a bearable level again. "We need ta talk." Eliot said, laying his cane down on his right and looking over to Hardison.

Hardison looked up, meeting Eliot's eyes for the first time in what felt like years. "What about?" Hardison asked, feeling a little awkward.

"It's been four days." Hardison nodded. "You're trying to… I don't know what but stop it. As annoying as you are, it's more annoying when you're trying not to be."

Hardison blinked, trying to process. "Are you complaining because I'm… not teasing you?"

Eliot's sigh was long suffering. "I'm complaining because you all keep acting like I'm going to freak out. Shit happened, I got hurt, things aren't ever gonna be the same again but we can make it work. I'm ready to move on." He closed his eyes, rubbing at them with one hand and Hardison looked away. He didn't know if he imagined the soft. "please" Eliot may or may not have tacked on to the end.

It was too much, it was all too much, and all Hardison could do was sit there and stare out as the city woke up and Eliot put his shades back on against the artificial night.

When they finally got up to leave they still hadn't said anything. While Hardison watched Eliot stand, a hand up to keep his shades in place Hardison made a crack about getting him goggles like Riddick. It wasn't the best reference ever and Eliot glared and mumbled about geeks and freaks.

But when Eliot turned away there was a hint of a smile on his face and something in Hardison's chest loosened. Things would be awkward for a while yet, but Eliot was ready to move on. Like usual, the others would just have to try to keep up.

**oOo**

Parker knew Eliot thought there was something wrong with her. She knew the others thought there was something wrong with her. She knew that the world thought there was something wrong with her.

Which was only fair, recently at least, because she was pretty damn certain there was something wrong with the world.

She didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it. It made her stomach hurt in a way it hadn't for a long time to think about what happened to Eliot. What happened to Eliot because she and Hardison screwed up and almost got caught. Eliot said it wasn't her fault, even told her privately after he told the rest of them, but it only made her feel a little better.

There was something wrong with the world. She'd always told herself that sometimes things just go wrong but seeing Eliot like this?

There was something wrong with the world.

She had watched from her perch on the roof of a building across from Eliot's apartment building as he exited the building, his cane already tap-tapping in front of him to find a safe path. He had picked his way across the uneven sidewalk for nearly a block before a sound caught his attention and he turned sharply, trying to identify the possible threat.

He took a step to the side, moving instinctively to put his back to the wall and Parker watched it happen. He hit one of the places where the old sidewalk was cracked and crumbling at an odd angle, his legs buckling as he tried to keep his balance and scrambled for stability. Unable to see what was stable and what wasn't his attempt to find flat footing ended up with Eliot barely catching himself from face planting onto the concrete.

All but lieing on the concrete, his cane thrown out of reach in his attempts to not fall, and his shoulders slumped in a way that made Parker hurt inside in her special angry place… this was just wrong.

There was something, no a lot of things, wrong with this.

It was the work of only a moment to get down to street level and Eliot was still collecting himself when she got there. The others had told her to give Eliot space, that he was too proud to ask for help and too stubborn to accept it so they shouldn't even try.

But Parker thought there was something wrong with that to.

If Eliot's too proud to ask for help and too stubborn to accept the offer why give him a choice?

Silently as possible Parker picked the cane off the ground and set it down back within Eliot's reach, backing away just as silently.

She was back to her perch by the time Eliot had gathered himself and was continuing down the road and Parker decided that since Eliot was too proud to ask for help and no one else would be giving it that left it up to her to look after him. Quietly. He'd never even know and they'd never have to be awkward.

She was pretty sure she was successful on all regards until she found a bag of fortune cookies waiting for her at her usual perch one morning with a note asking if she'd like to actually walk *with* him to Nate's on the street like a normal person this morning.

Eliot was too proud to ask for help, too stubborn to accept it, but Parker learned that he wasn't too much of a bad guy to be grateful.

Two days after getting the verdict on his sight, that he would always have impaired vision, always be all but legally blind, Eliot came to Nate's apartment early. The others wouldn't be in for a little while and he needed to do this.

They didn't exchange niceties when Eliot came in, resting his cane next to the door, and saw Nate looking at him over the top of the newspaper he'd been reading. Nate continued to watch him and Eliot figured Nate knew, if not why, then at least that Eliot wanted to talk to him.

**oOo**

"I want to take the next job off." Eliot said, mentally wincing at the way it sounded but he couldn't figure out any way to make it better.

Silence lingered a long time and Eliot mentally tried to put together some kind of explanation that didn't sound half-ass and like he was running away. How do you tell someone that you, someone famous for control and focus, are having time finding any of either. How do you tell someone you're trying to protect the team by taking away their usual protection?

How do you do that without admitting you just don't trust yourself right then?

How do you admit you don't trust yourself at the moment without making the person worry?

Nate puts down his coffee mug and folds the newspaper closed and gets up, it took Eliot a moment to realize he was getting more coffee and starting to make himself breakfast. Eliot wasn't sure what he expected to say but "When I tell them I've decided you're sitting our next job out be angry but not too upset or they'll do everything in their power to get you back on the job." Thrown over his shoulder wasn't it.

Eliot didn't thank Nate, not for accepting his request without an explanation, and not for letting him save a little face in front of the others.

But he did take the cereal box Nate had been studying from his hands and make them both a real breakfast.

It was a half hour later, when they were both quietly finishing up the food Eliot made that broke the silence. "You don't have to answer, actually I don't want you to, but why do you want the job off?"

Eliot doesn't answer and Nate doesn't mind.

It takes a few hours for Eliot to admit to himself that he feels like he's lost *something*. He's not even sure what it is he lost.

The next few days pass in a mixture of a blur and sharp clarity. He struggles through the little things only a little more easily from his intermittent vision. More than one new hole decorates the walls of his apartment as he looks for some way to vent his pent in frustration.

Yet there are moments. Sophie showing up to take him grocery shopping like she has twice a week since he was blinded, Parker watching from a distance she doesn't think he knows about, Nate replacing every light in his apartment with a lower wattage that made the room just dim enough that he could take his shades off for short periods of time…

A conversation on the roof with Hardison and the geek finally starting to joke around again, even if the teasing comments were a little forced.

It was after Hardison had gone back down, after the sun had set and artificial light filled the Boston night.

It was a long time that Eliot stood there, absently knowing that he should go home soon. If it got too late Nate would insist on someone driving him home or that he took a cab rather than letting Eliot take the bus and walking.

That was when it hit him. He'd lost his… something.

His independence? The team had always depended on him for protection and now they were taking care of him. No, that he could get back in time. He'd get that back more if he did the job and proved he could do it still.

His focus? His confidence? His ability? No… he hadn't lost those. Had them shaken a little. It would take time to get them back to normal.

Somewhere behind him he heard the door open and the distinct silence of Parker in motion. He smiled a little at that. The one time he'd made a comment like that out loud Hardison's "You identified Parker by what you didn't hear?" and his own "It's a very distinctive silence" playing through his brain.

Maybe this was one of those distinctive silences? Something you couldn't identify by it's presence but it's absence. Something he'd never lost, or maybe never had to lose.

Eliot's cell phone went off and he opened it. Nate was on the other line. "Sorry if you were heading out but I just got report about one of our potential clients. Timeline's been moved up and if we want to do this we need to put the pieces into motion now."

"Got it. I'll grab Parker and we'll be down in a minute."

A half hour later Eliot was still waiting for Nate to announce he was sitting this one out.

He wasn't focusing too much on it, admittedly, the object in his lap requiring a good deal of his focus not dedicated to Hardison's verbal briefing. Hardison had designed this tablet, computer screen, thing that Eliot would never admit but was pretty ingenious. It had a flat surface with little bits that raised like brail to mimic the big screens and a raised cursor to cue him to where to "look". Hardison had given it to him, no questions asked, and Eliot had nodded his thanks. No one had mentioned that the mere idea of watching a brightly lit screen for as long as a briefing lasted made Eliot eyes hurt and head pound.

The next click of Hardison's remote brought up a set of blueprints, with a list of others along the right side of the screen. Thin but obvious lines raised across the screen, mapping out the locations they might be, on some little shapes appeared and Eliot realized it was markers for furniture.

It took a couple more minutes for the thought to fully process and solidify into something Eliot could identify. When It did he opened his eyes and looked up, not surprised to see Nate watching him.

Eliot swallowed the very undignified sensation making it's way up his throat as he wrapped his mind around the idea. He identified whatever he'd lost by it's absence. But right here right now… it was here. It was here in the team and these little things they did _for him. _When he could practically beat them over the head for not going out to find a hitter who could protect them instead of one they had to protect (he'd ignore the difficulty they'd have doing just that) and instead they made their jobs that much harder to make him able to do his job.

He wasn't sure what it was he'd lost, or if what they were giving back to him was the same thing, but maybe that wasn't the point. He'd muddle through this and figure it out as they went. But he needed them and they needed him and he was going to ignore how screwed up all of that was and focus on getting through whatever this was and being ready to take the next hit thrown their way.

He met Nate's eyes across the room, or as close as he could get his eyes to focus on them, and held his gaze a long moment before turning back down to the tablet.

The briefing went on and Nate never once even suggested that Eliot sit this one out.

**oOo**

They're still working out the kinks.

That's what Nate keeps telling himself.

They're working out the kinks. And there are bound to be plenty when you consider what the kinks are being caused by. With anyone but Eliot Nate isn't sure they'd be able to work out the kinks at all.

But as it is there is adjustment. They can't have Eliot doing anything that he'd have to drive himself to during the day, and even at night is a chancy business at best. Chaotic places were difficult for him to function at his usual level in, most of his sound cues drowned out and people jostling him was probably disorienting at best.

The roles he can play in a con have become rather limited, though Sophie pointed out being blind could be an asset to charming his way into a woman's good graces. The fact it was now pretty much a given that everyone, the team included, was bound to underestimate him on some level couldn't completely hurt.

But he was still functionally blind in brightly lit areas and sight impaired at best in dim ones. He was memorable, and in a way that made it rather hard to convince people you really had met before, and with his sunglasses indoors and at night and the cane he used outside he was more than a little conspicuous.

So yeah. There were a few kinks to work out. And there was a lot of other reasons to be careful about Eliot. Hell, Nate had been almost worried Eliot really would sit this job out.

And Nate knew that if Eliot sat this job out there was a good chance Eliot would be the next team mate to go on a sabbatical.

Only with the number of enemies Eliot had out there, and the fact it was only a matter of time until they found out he was blind…

Well if Nate was honest with himself Eliot was probably running out of time until the safest place he could be was with the rest of the team keeping an eye out for enemies who knew how to use Eliot's handicap to their advantage.

So yeah, that was why he had told Eliot to stay back and babysit Hardison while the rest of them went in. They had had to move too fast to do this job for the type of planning and prep they all had put into the two jobs they'd done since Eliot's blinding. He was just being careful. It was his job to be careful.

Except, well, things were doing what they tended to do.

Go south.

A little quick maneuvering and they'd be fine, it would just take some talking and conning and he and Sophie would be out right as rain. Parker was already nearly out of her break in and things were going fine.

Then, then over the coms he heard Hardison say. "Uh Nate, we have a problem here?"

"What?"

Eliot responded. "Either the mark's hiring from the local talent or we parked in some gang's turf." There was a gunshot. "They took out our engine block. Looks like the training wheels are off boss." Then came the two words Nate had been growing a steady hatred for. "Under way."

It was a military term Nate wasn't even sure Eliot was aware he'd slipped into habit of saying as a way to let them all know he was taking out his com the better to hear everything else.

It was also Hardison's cue, when he was with Eliot, to shut up so Eliot could focus.

Which, with nothing he could do for them besides getting out of here fast, was what Nate would have to do now.

**oOo**

In his life Nate had been handed plenty of opportunities to contemplate life's apparent appreciation of irony. There was at least one bonus of this. He didn't have to waste time doing so again now.

If Nate was honest it hadn't been the crunched time line that had Nate on edge. They may have only had three days, but they'd worked with far less time before.

It was that this had been their first job without the training wheels.

It was that, even if all his alias's medical files now read "vision impaired" rather than "blind", even if he could see under certain conditions and his vision could improve in time (or get worse)…

That H word they couldn't bring themselves to say, even if Eliot had never backed down from using it, owning it…

Eliot was still handicapped. And even if he wasn't as badly as before he'd never reach the level he'd been at before. Now they protected him as much as he protected them.

Now Eliot was the V word none of them would say.

Now Eliot was vulnerable.

Now their white knight protector who nothing could touch and nothing could phase… was vulnerable. He was the vulnerable one now.

And in the end life had shown Nate irony by taking Nate's attempt to keep Eliot safer for just this one job and making it end up with Eliot fighting a gang, outside, in the middle of the day.

Not that Eliot seemed to mind, judging by the smile on his face when they met up at the end of the job.

They'd done a job without training wheels, with Eliot's issues, with the team still trying to fill in the gaps left over, with all of them desperate to make this work.

They'd made it work.

Afterwards they celebrated, going out to dinner. To an actual dinner because they could instead of because Eliot was too hurt to cook or whatever.

None of them addressed Parker's statement that had come as part of the chaotic argument in favor of eating out. "Family eat's out together to celebrate."

They'd gone out to dinner and gone to one of those little out of the way places with the dim lighting and lit candles and with only a little careful maneuvering to block the candle from Eliot's direct line of sight he was able to take his shades off and for a brief few minutes they were able to pretend like nothing had ever gone wrong.

It lasted until Nate realized Eliot had managed to wait to be the last to order and ordered a mix of things others had ordered.

Eliot hadn't been able to read the menu.

Nate added that to the ever growing list of blunders they'd made that he didn't even begin to know how to fix.

He hadn't even gotten a chance to try when Eliot cut himself off mid tease to Hardison and looked at the restaurant's front door and the two men who'd just walked in. "Those two guys are cops, detectives judging by their trench coats." He said, his voice pitched even not to attract attention by being too loud or too soft.

"Very distinctive coats?" Hardison asked.

"No." He answered not looking away from where they were talking to the host, squinting and blinking his eyes like he was trying to make them focus and Nate winced internally. They wouldn't focus, they couldn't. "Stance says cop on official business and trench coats aren't exactly standard issue." Eliot explained, finally looking away and rubbing at his eyes, his head cocking slightly to the side as he tracked them with his hearing since he couldn't with his eyes.

"They aren't looking our way." Sophie said simply. "They're not here for us. Why would they be?"

The next thing Nate knew Eliot shouted "Get down!" and had all but tackled Hardison, pulling him out of his chair. Nate was too busy doing as told, Eliot had used what Parker had once characterized as the "Eliot saw bad men with guns" voice and it was always a good idea to do as told when he used it.

Nate barely had time to register his knees hitting the floor when a gunshot erupted disturbingly close to where they were sitting.

A woman screamed, there was a cry of pain, shattering glass, more shots and Eliot was pulling on his shoulder getting his attention and directing him and the others with hand motions Nate guessed came from the army as second nature. Nate didn't know what it meant, but it was pretty clear what Eliot wanted them to do.

Their table had been along a back wall, only a table away from the door to the kitchen and a good escape route.

Except from the sound of it the shooter(s?) were at that table in between them and the door. Nate was pretty sure what Eliot wanted them to do was stay down and move away from the men with guns who were shooting at each other.

As the all kept down, slowly moving away from the men with guns Nate risked looking up in time to see one of the cops taken down and the other retreat around the corner of the door.

_Not good_. But at least maybe the gunmen would run out the back and be done with it.

Then, in the space of only a handful of seconds, life reminded Nate of it's love for irony.

Siren's outside started blaring deafeningly loud, someone turned on the restaurant's over head lights, a third gunman burst out of the door to the kitchen with the trapped look that could only mean the place was surrounded.

And after celebrating a job sucseful despite Eliot's newfound vulnerability the gunman closest to them bent down and grabbed Eliot, who of course had put himself between the team and the gunmen, by the shoulder and put a gun to his temple.

Nate watched in horror as he dragged Eliot to his feet, waiting for Eliot to strike out. This was in the range of efficacy.

But Eliot didn't move. He couldn't.

Without his glasses Eliot had been forced to close his eyes against the light now flooding the resuraunt. With the sirens roaring outside Nate could barely hear himself think, they had to be drowning out any sound cues Eliot could of heard and Eliot had to know there were more than one gunmen.

Eliot didn't know if he was the only one they'd grabbed, if there were more than one guns trained on him, or where the other gunmen were.

Nate, no, they all had spent every job since Eliot's blinding worried about Eliot's safety.

And it was off the job when Eliot was truly made his most vulnerable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **Last chapter for this story. As were the others this is a combination of a bunch of prompt fics (It only takes one second to save a life, Don't Look Back, The team has to protect him, Don't underestimate what I'd do to keep you safe, Makes you stronger, and Watching Eliot's childish delight while eating oreos and a tall glass of milk.)  
Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Blind Man's Bluff**

* * *

Too much light.

Too much sound.

Too much. Just too much.

Hands were holding him. A gun was pressed to his temple but it was shifting, distracted. He could break from the hold easily and take down the man with the gun. He guessed he had a roughly one in five chance of being minorly wounded in the attempt and unless something unforeseen went wrong there was no chance of a fatal injury.

Unforseen.

The word bit bitterly in his mind. He hadn't seen this coming. He couldn't see anything coming but still here things went all to hell. They'd done a job, it had gone just fine, they'd gone out to dinner and somehow he'd ended up in a hostage situation with a gun to his head, the lights turned on far too bright for him to see, and the sirens from half the police cruisers in Boston blaring out front of the restaurant making hearing anything impossible.

He could break free of this hold. But he had no clue if anyone else had a gun aimed at him or someone on the team.

"Please." Sophie. He could just hear her voice over the sirens. "Please let him go. He's blind. Take one of us instead."

"Damnit So-" He stopped himself from telling her off, that even blind he was best suited for hostage situations, not because of the gun jammed painfully hard against his temple but because he realized what she was actually trying to say and who she was saying it to.

She'd been using her con voice and her word choice. God only knew a grifter never said anything they didn't mean.

He was the only hostage.

That just left the question of weather or not there was only one gun trained on him.

"Please ju-" Sophie started again and the gun against his temple moved, the guy holding him shifted his body language changing to a very distinctive…

In less than a second, less than a heartbeat, Eliot realized he was moving to shoot Sophie to shut her up.

So Eliot moved faster.

It only took a second to take the guy holding him out.

It only takes a few seconds longer to end the hostage situation.

The team tries to leave quietly out the back. They don't want trouble or recognition. Nate talks to the cops or something, Eliot doesn't even know. He's trying to keep track but there is too much noise and too much chaos and the smell of gunpowder is strong in the air and he's getting a little dizzy from it all. Hardison and Parker have one hand each on his shoulders, guiding him through the haze.

Eliot hears reporters. Apparently this caught the attention of the news reporters.

Eliot hitched his shoulders, bringing his jacket up and over his head, crossing his arms in front of his face. He may look like an idiot but he didn't need his face to appear in print. Most of the dangerous people who knew what he looked like were dead, but there were plenty out there who'd be very interested in finding out Boston was his home city.

Just as he did so though he heard a click and felt a flash of light.

He'd reacted fast, but for a hitter just one second could be the difference between life and death.

**oOo**

There were some mornings when Eliot would sit at the table looking out his back window and watch the sun rise and the city wake up. Or, he should say, he'd watch until the light became too intense and his eyes burned and watered until he closed them or put on his shades.

He knew he wasn't doing himself or what was left of his vision any favors but it was the one time he allowed himself to look back.

He'd always liked sunrise. Always liked the slow dawn after a long night. Sometimes it brought promise or the end of long toil or the start of new hard, but good, work. Dawn brought the end of night. Light to darkness.

Only now dawn was the herald of the thing that drove him indoors or behind dark glasses. It no longer brought light to darkness but drove him further into it.

Still some mornings he'd look back and remember what it was like, hold onto things he was losing so that his memory, normally so sharp, wouldn't fade.

The sun glared off of something making his eyes water and Eliot looked away, rubbing at them and reaching to slip on his glasses.

A moment later his cell phone rang and Eliot fumbled to answer it.

"Eliot. It's Nate. You need to get out of your house now." Eliot didn't even get a chance to ask before Nate explained. "'Real Life Daredevil' is the front page story on The Boston Globe this morning. 'Last night a police hostage situation at a local restaurant involving several staff and patrons was ended suddenly without a single civilian casualty when the man the perpetrators had at gunpoint singlehandedly took down his attackers when they moved to shoot one of his friends. This already astonishing feat was made more remarkable by the fact several witnesses report the civilian was blind.' And they have a picture of you. Not perfect but good enough that someone looking would know it was you."

Of course.

"Eliot you need to leave now. Parker will come back later for anything you don't want to leave behind but you need to leave immediately. Get to a safe house and lay low. Hardison's doing what he can but there's no telling what the fallout from this will be."

"On my way out." Eliot only stopped to pick up his cane. It would be a tell tale mark but it would do him no good to be alone in a relatively unknown environment without even this simple aid.

"I mean it Eliot, hurry. Don't even look back." Eliot knew it was Nate's panic and the team in general's overprotectiveness of him since his blinding that made him say that.

But Eliot still found himself muttering. "I try not to."

**oOo**

Right now they're bracing for impact.

Eliot got to Nate's apartment before trouble hit and was quickly holed up in the "safe condo" upstairs with bullet resistant windows hidden behind curtains and as many protections as they could get. Sophie found and convinced or bribed everyone they could think of to not tell the papers who the man the papers had labeled "A Real Life Daredevil" really was or where he lived. Parker was doing surveillance sweeps, trying to determine if anyone had found Eliot's apartment and Nate was trying to come up with some kind of solution that didn't involve them moving their base of operations across the country.

It was Hardison that came up with the closest thing to an actual solution mid morning and quickly drafted the others to help him the best they could.

Within hours Internet news sites, web blogs, and even big city radio stations across the world were being hit with a series of stories about a man who took out a criminal despite being crippled or who stopped a armed robbery at a bank despite being deaf, or some variation on the theme. For some there were pictures. For others there were only detailed descriptions.

They worked through the day, ensuring there had been more than twenty "sightings" of Eliot across the globe, scattered just enough that no one would notice a pattern unless they were looking for one. A handful were made to appear to have occurred and be reported on before the incident at the restaurant.

And, somewhere in that mess, Hardison hacked all the places that had records of the original story, doing his best to make it look like (at least to those looking from the outside) as if the reports had been altered or falsified.

Hardison's personal favorite step was starting a rumor on the internet that the photo in the paper had been photo shopped and that the so called daredevil was actually a woman and the powers that be decided a male hero would sell more papers. Within hours there was a facebook community dedicated to fighting for the rights of real life female superheroes.

But within thirty six hours of the newspaper hitting the stands there was nothing left for them to do, no preparations left to make. If any of Eliot's enemies were coming to Boston to try to hunt him down they were there already, or would be very soon.

There was nothing left to do but wait and brace for impact should a hitter of Eliot's caliber come calling.

Eliot stood in the kitchen of the Safe Condo, the apartment dark except for the faint light of the day leaking in under the heavy curtains on the windows. Shapes blurry from darkness and the damage to his eyes were around him and though he knew by muscle memory and his mental maps what everything was he didn't move to make use of it yet.

He was safe here, as safe as he would probably ever be at least, but at the same time instincts told him to just slip quietly outside of this darkened haven the team had made (for him, his mind told him, in preparation for something like this, because they knew this would happen) and disappear. He was safe here, but that safety was coming at the cost of putting the team in danger. They were protecting him when it was supposed to be the other way around.

He'd willingly put his life on the line to keep them safe. He'd bought Hardison and Parker time to escape fully accepting the fact the price for their safety would probably be his life. Instead he'd given his eyes, his independence, his… light…, to keep them safe.

What gave them the right to put their own lives on the line for his sake?

That wasn't how this was supposed to work.

Not for the first time Eliot pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, giving into the absurd urge to just try to *will* them to work. A half crazy, half bitter, and maybe just a little bit broken sound that could almost pass for a laugh escaped his throat.

Hey, he could will himself through a lot. Why couldn't he just will his eyes to work?

The door to the condo slammed shut, Parker's way of letting him know she was in the room. After he got what little sight he had back he'd discovered she still came in through her usual crazy ways, she just went straight for the door and pulled it open and slammed it shut whenever Eliot was in the room.

On a good day it made him smile.

Today was not a good day.

But any aggravated remarks he could have made were interrupted when Parker came into the kitchen with the comment of. "I'm hungry. I want mashed potatoes and pancakes."

Eliot's Scaring People glare never seemed to work on the thief and before he knew it he was wresting a potato peeler away from Parker and telling her to instead read him the instructions from the box of pancake mix.

One of these days the others would stop becoming subdued when he asked them to read him something.

And before long Eliot was mashing the potatoes, careful to add cheese (because that's the way Parker liked them and she'd probably sulk if he forgot) while she waited patiently over the stack of pancakes, and for a few brief moments Eliot realized he'd almost forgotten the chaos descending into his world.

Then he tossed the masher into the sink only to hear it clank and skid across a counter. The kitchen design in this apartment just a little different from Nate's and he had forgotten.

He shook it off, moving to go grab it when Parker touched his shoulder as she passed. He heard her drop it in the sink.

Shaking his head Eliot finished the potatoes and served most of them into a bowl, placing it beside Parker's plate of pancakes before scooping the rest of it into a smaller bowl for himself.

Eliot closed his eyes as he ate, glad he didn't have to watch Parker do her *thing* where she made sandwiches out of pancakes and mashed potatoes.

"Why do you have Oreos in the garbage?" Parker asked and suddenly Eliot regretted taking his eyes off her. "An empty box of Oreos."

Eliot wondered if he could pretend to go temporarily deaf to avoid answering that question.

"You always get on our cases about packaged food." Parker remarked. "And you were the one who bought all the food to this place." He didn't have to see her to know there was a slowly growing amused look on her face. "You like oreos."

"You like having me cook you food." Eliot said, half warning despite it being said like a statement. He already had a headache, he did not need her teasing him about Oreos being a comfort food. And he in fact had not bought them thank you very much. Sophie had.

After she'd seen him buy them a few times on their twice weekly grocery outings.

Parker fell silent, going back to her eating as if she'd never said anything.

Silence, however, didn't last long.

"You have to promise not to leave." Parker said after a few moments.

"Huh?"

"You have to promise not to leave. You're thinking about leaving and you have to promise not to."

Eliot considered denying it but… he doubted he'd convince her. "I'm supposed to be protecting you guys. Lately I've been a liability. I'm gettin' better by but you guys shouldn't have to protect me."

"We don't." She said, her tone of voice the one she uses when she thinks you havn't been paying attention because your mind functions in a relatively sane fashion.

"You don't have to protect me." Eliot reiterates her point to be sure. She was crazy and even though that was his argument it seemed weird that she was making his point to counter his point. "Then why are you?"

Parker's answer was immediate. "Because you make me mashed potatoes and pancakes."

"You could hire a cook."

"I could I hire a cook." She agreed with a nod. "We all could hire a cook. But when I told my cook that I wanted mashed potatoes and pancakes they would ask me why and think I was weird and wouldn't know to put cheese in the mashed potatoes or that I eat it like a sandwich. Hardison's cook wouldn't make him peach pie with really cheap canned peaches because that's the way that makes Hardison make those happy noises and say it tastes just like his Nana's or if Hardison's cook did that he'd probably tell Hardison that his Nana made really bad peach pie and that none of the rest of us will eat it. Sophie's cook wouldn't know that she really likes simple foods and that foods with lots of spices give her heart burn but after a bad day making her Italian Food cheers her up. And Nate's cook wouldn't stop using wine in cooking or stop drinking beer in his apartment. And we'd have to all pay those cooks because they aren't family and they don't care about us and we don't care about them."

He didn't really know what to say to that.

"The team doesn't have to protect you. We want to."

**oOo**

Three days after the incident at the restaurant the coverage of The Daredevil had died down (though the facebook group for the rights of female superheros had tripled in membership). Life was going back to normal and Nate mentioned in a few more days it would probably be safe for Eliot to leave the building.

Though, even if none of them said it, Eliot had been showing much more tolerance to being cooped up inside than expected. When Parker mentioned it Eliot just shrugged, explaining that after a month in a little cell with no variation other than who was coming in to torture you a spacious apartment didn't seem at all bad.

None of them said that the fact if he was caught he might end up in that cell again wasn't comforting.

It had been three days and Eliot was still letting them protect him though, and they all were secretly relived he seemed to have come to terms with the arrangement.

It was almost five oclock on the third day and Parker was upstairs with Eliot when things changed.

Hardison burst into the apartment, locking the door behind him before racing to the kitchen where Eliot had been making Parker dinner. "We have to get out now." He said, panic on his voice.

Parker didn't hesitate, literally dropping what she'd been holding and going to the window, getting her rigs and harnesses ready.

"What happened?" Eliot asked, trying to get answers even as he heard Hardison grabbing his cane from the hook by the door.

"Put on your glasses. I'll explain once we get out." That tone was… surprising.

"No." Eliot stopped. "What the hell happened?"

There was a short, dead, silence before Hardison said the words Eliot had been dreading. "An enemy of yours showed up. He has Nate and Sophie. I was out but they managed to hit the panic button on the phone. We need to get out now."

Eliot followed Hardison to the window, letting Parker work to help get him suited up. The sunlight was bright outside and even just here at the window and he knew even when he could see she could get herself and him rigged up faster than he could by himself. "So they're in Nate's apartment?" He asked.

"Probably waiting for us to come back." Hardison said with the uncertainty Eliot wished he didn't recognize as someone trying to deny a hostage might already be dead. Parker turned to him and checked his rigging and Eliot could have almost sworn he could hear her forced numbess in her movements.

His mind started moving, playing out scenarios, trying to find some way to fix this and protect his team even as he moved through the motions of this already practiced escape plan.

"I'm going to jump with Eliot." Parker said and Eliot didn't bother arguing as she hooked them together. "Close your eyes." She warned him seconds before taking his sunglasses off and stowing them somewhere a second later she'd taken his cane. "I'll give them back once we're on the ground. We can't afford losing them." He knew all these steps already. They'd walked through this. But he thought maybe Parker was trying to be helpful. "Come with me to the window here, follow my lead." She eased them closer to the edge, opened the window, and for just a second Eliot felt warm sun on his face before she wrapped her arms around him. He had just enough time to return the embrace before they went plummeting through the air.

A gut wrenching second later the fall stopped and Parker unhooked herself to drop. Eliot followed suit, trying to absorb the impact of what felt like a three or so foot fall. Parker was already at work disposing of the rigging and a second later the sunglasses and cane were pressed back into his hands. He put on the shades but put the cane to the side. "Whoever's looking for me is looking for a blind man. I'll blend in better without."

Hardison took the jump and landed next to them, cursing under his breath.

"What do we do?" Hardison asked.

"Call the police?" Parker offered.

Eliot shook his head. "If he's on my level the police wouldn't be able to handle him an' he'd likely kill them both." He didn't want to say it but it was still his job to be realistic. It was still his job to lead this team if Nate and Sophie couldn't. "We need to be smart about this but we need to act fast. Do we have coms?" He asked the last bit turning to "look" in roughly Hardison's direction.

"Yeah, always carry a couple just in case." Someone, Hardison, took his hand and put a com in it and Eliot put it in his ear. "Go find the closest internet café and access the cameras you have in the apartment. The hidden ones. He'll be avoiding the obvious ones." He cut off Hardison's sputtered objections that he didn't have hidden cameras or slightly more obvious hidden cameras to try to trick anyone looking that there weren't less than obvious ones. "Now Hardison. The longer it takes the longer he'll have of finding the others. I need to know who it is we're dealing with."

There was a pause then he heard Hardison turn and leave.

Once Hardison was gone Parker said. "Hardison gave me a look. I think he was trying to tell me to watch you. You're not going to do anything stupid are you? We're going to make a plan that doesn't involve you going in there and getting killed right?" There was a note of hysteria on her voice as she asked.

Eliot turned giving her the 'there's something wrong with you' look. "'Course. Me gettin' killed wouldn't solve anything. This is what I need you to do."

Five minutes later Parker left to the sound of Hardison repeating over the coms that this was the worst plan he'd ever heard and didn't Eliot have any sense to not do something stupid?

Eliot told Hardison to shut up, that he needed to focus on trying to hear everything he could since he was alone, blind, and in public without his cane.

In the following silence Eliot whispered, just barely to himself.

"Don't underestimate what I'd do to protect you."

**oOo**

There were times when life was just out of your hands. When things had been set in motion and all you could do was sit and watch and wait to see how the dice fell.

Nate really really hated times like that.

He was sitting with Sophie on the couch, their hands flex cuffed behind their backs, the hitter who had managed to track them down sitting on the kitchen counter cleaning a nasty looking knife.

Somewhere on the floor above them a window closed and Nate mentally cursed when the hitter looked up, sliding off the counter and going to the stairs silently. It was likely Parker returning. She came in through the windows as often as anything else. And any second she'd be coming downstairs to see if Eliot was here and she had to slam a door to let him kno-…

Parker normally entered and left without making a sound.

Shuffling upstairs and the hitter slowly started to climb the stairs.

He hadn't even passed to the top step when a hand, Parker's, appeared, slipping a com unit into his ear and Hardison repeated over and over in his ear. "We have a plan don't freak out. Parker is only going to be able to get out because she'd Parker."

Before he even fully registered she was there Parker was gone.

Next to him Sophie leaned her head on his shoulder, hiding her ear entirely from sight and the com with it and Nate leaned his head on hers.

In less than twenty seconds the Hitter was back downstairs muttering.

Eliot's voice was the next to come over the com.

"I'm going to do somethin' you all probably will think is stupid but I need you to go with me alright? Play along."

Sophie shifted, her breath carefully becoming uneven and worried. Nate took in a deep breath and muttered softly to her. "It'll be alright. I promise."

There was a beat and Eliot added. "Underway."

Seconds ticked by and Nate held his breath, waiting, hoping, not quite praying, not yet, a part of his mind knew that this was Eliot and even blind that part of his mind knew Eliot would get them safe.

Maybe if they did survive this the rest of his mind would remember that.

Suddenly the door opened and Eliot walked in apparently non-chalantly, his eyes open and alert, the cane nowhere in sight.

His eyes turned to focus on the hitter on the counter, flickering briefly to Nate and Sophie on the couch before shooting back to the hitter. "Michel…" He said, his voice going ice cold, entire posture changing. "I wish I could say that it's nice to see you."

"It's been a long time since Hatti Spencer." Michel said with a sneer. "You've made quite a name for yourself since you stole my bounty."

"And you've lost what reputation you had." Eliot responded. "And are 'bout to lose what you have left. Going after my family? Not very clever, boy"

"I'm a bounty hunter Spencer, not one of you honor before reason types." Eliot looked like he was about ready to roll his eyes. "I heard you'd been blinded Spencer. Saw your photo in the daily paper. Just my luck I was in Boston. Took me a few days to track you down. Seems someone got the story wrong."

"Seems so to." Eliot answered noncommittally, taking a few steps forward. "But I have been practicing."

"Is that so?" Michel asked.

"Remember the game we played?" Eliot smirked. "How about round two."

The apartment went dark. Night had fallen not long ago and the light dampening shades on the windows turned the room almost pitch black.

'_Guys get out now' _Hardison said over the coms

Seconds later a knife sliced through the flexicuffs and Hardison told them both to just get down and get out.

A crash nearby may have been the reason Hardison's voice suddenly got just a little harsher.

In moments they were in the hallway and on their feet and racing out of the building. "Hardison tell Eliot we're out. He can get out of there."

"That wasn't the plan." Eliot's slightly breathless voice told them over the com, drawl heavier than they were used to with just a hint of a promise of violence still in it. "Yall can come back now. It's all clear."

"Did you kill him?" Parker asked the question they were all thinking.

"Yeah." Eliot said without hesitation, a slight chill racing down Nate's spine at how it didn't seem to even occur to Eliot to be bothered by killing to protect his team. "Guess Micheal forgot the same thing you all did."

Nate made a face as they turned to walk back inside, trying to shove away the feeling. "what's that?"

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Nate grinned when Hardison came back with. "But it doesn't help with your one liners apparently."

Things were back under control and they were all still alive and really that was all he could hope for most days with this team.

**oOo**

Hardison was confused.

He took some comfort in the fact Nate looked somewhat confused as well.

He and Nate had just returned from a mission to dispose of the body of the hitter under Eliot's supervision (and really, if he hadn't been somewhat freaked about the whole scenario and the fact it sounded like Eliot could talk someone through body disposal in his sleep, he would have made some Godfather references).

He might have also complained about how no one was giving the girls body disposal detail if it weren't for the fact that he was pretty sure the fact that thought even occurred to him was a sign he was both still in shock and spending way too much time around Eliot.

But they got back and Sophie and Parker were commiserating in the way that anyone on the team did. Where you knew everyone knew you were plotting but you were making it obvious in part just to worry everyone else.

By the time it processed that they were plotting though Hardison was too tired to care. It had been a freakishly long week and a freakishly long day and yeah.

He needed to take ten.

And Eliot… wait.

Where did Eliot go?

"Eliot went upstairs to get some rest." Nate said from where he stood by the coffee pot. "Sophie and Parker left for the great cookie caper and you fell asleep sitting up." Well that answered a lot of his questions. "Couch is free." Nate added as he finished pouring a mug and turned back to restoring order to his apartment calmly, as if he hadn't been held at knife point in his own home a few short hours ago.

There are occasional moments of clarity when you realize how profoundly weird your life has become.

Hardison's response to those moments was nearly always to get some more sleep.

Sometime later a gentle hand nudged his shoulder and he sat up, looking up at Sophie who silently pointed back toward the kitchen.

At the table Eliot and Parker sat together sharing a box of Oreos and two tall glasses of milk.

Eliot's eyes were closed, Hardison felt a pang of something in his chest when he realized after Eliot's bluff his eyes must hurt like hell for Eliot to be going blind even in Nate's apartment.

But that feeling passed and changed into something else as he watched Parker try to reach over and steal a cookie from Eliot's stack only for Eliot to pull his jedi trick and catch her hand on the return trip. He scowled at her but the quirk at the corners of his lips told a different story.

He let her hand go. With her other hand she reached for his, guiding it back so his fingers closed around the edges of the cookie.

"Make a wish." Parker told him. "If you get the cream it'll come true."

No one, not even Eliot, told her that she was mixing Oreos with wishbones.

Hardison experienced another moment of strange clarity of how weird his life had become when the rest of the team seemed just entranced by the almost boyish grin that crossed Eliot's face as he nodded to Parker and they twisted the cookie.

Eliot dipped his side into the milk and paused just for a moment before biting down and it was strange how realizing that Eliot probably hadn't even known he'd "won" until he bit into the cookie didn't hurt nearly as much as those million little realizations used to.

Somehow as Eliot took the bite of cookie the weird spell on the rest of them broke and they moved to continue their daily lives.

As Hardison went to assess the damage done to his hardware during the incident he heard Parker ask Eliot if his wish came true.

"It did a long time ago." Eliot answered.

Parker told Eliot that wasn't the point of wishes and Hardison decided that there also moments of clarity when you realized just how little it mattered that your life was weird.


End file.
